Comedy of Fate
by Ruse Amour
Summary: Sarah calls the Goblin King and decides to take him to her patronizing therapist, to prove that he’s real. Unfortunately, they get stuck in an elevator and a comedy of fate ensues. Rated for some sexual content.
1. Prologue

**A Comedy of Fate**

**Synopsis: **Sarah calls the Goblin King and decides to take him to her patronizing therapist, to prove that he's real. Unfortunately, they get stuck in an elevator and a comedy of fate ensues.

**Prologue: The Problem with Therapy **

The problem with my _brilliant_, and I say that with sarcasm, therapist is: she's never taken into account that the Goblin King may be real. She calls him a figment of a fifteen-year-old, puberty driven mind. The one last thing I have to do, she says, is call him and prove to myself that he isn't real. She tells me I haven't completed this last step because I do not want my therapy to end.

Ha! Ten years of paying these people an insane amount of money for monthly therapy, and for what? For her to tell me that I should realize he's unreal, and move on. What's more 'unreal' to me is that she helped me write out a phrase to call him. I should take back my control as an adult, she says.

Call me cynical, but I don't think saying, 'I, Sarah Williams, wish the Goblin King would show up and speak with me for half an hour, and then leave without taking me and/or any of my friends and family members with him,' would work. Besides, what if he's real? He's something that can do magic and he's clearly going to be pissed off with me. I don't think he'd appreciate a twenty five-year-old civil engineer asking him if he was her twisted sexual imaginary character some ten years ago.

Of course, I explained all this to my therapist, but she only smiled. By the way, are they trained to smile in that calm and patronizing way in therapy school? She told me to try with courage. Yes, I paid a hundred and twenty dollars, _an hour_, to be told (and patronizingly) that I should try. So it was not _actually_ me paying them, they still made tons of money off of me through my insurance.

Well, here goes "I, Sarah Williams, wish the Goblin King would show up and speak with me for half an hour, and then leave without taking me and/or any of my friends and family members with him."

"Surely, this is a joke."

Holy shit. _The figment_ is standing in my living room with a livid expression on his exquisite face. Somewhat disappointed, I notice his pants are not as tight as I remembered.

"I. You. But. How…" I clamp my hand on my mouth before saying anything further. Must regain composure as an adult. Must regain control as an adult. See, my brain automatically goes into this mode in a crisis due the years spent on 'the couch.' I'm not too sure if it's a good thing or not though.

To be continued.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth or its characters.


	2. Chapter 1

**A Comedy of Fate**

**Synopsis: **Sarah calls the Goblin King and decides to take him to her patronizing therapist, to prove that he's real. Unfortunately, they get stuck in an elevator and a comedy of fate ensues.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hallucinations and Innuendos **

The figment raised a laconic brow at my sputtering. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Great, my sexual dream seems to find me amusing.

"You _do_ exist," I managed, still gaping at him.

"You noticed," he replied sardonically. His voice grew deep as he lowered his eyes to mine, "do you need me for something?"

_ Wait a second; was the sexual innuendo starting already? _

I groaned. All those years, hassling with the insurance company to pay my therapy bills and I was back to square one: hallucinating about a man who looked like the embodiment of sex. _Oh well, at least his pants did not outline his anatomy like before, that has to be an improvement right?_

"Look," I said, massaging my temples, "how do I know you are not a hallucination?"

"I beg your pardon." He looked highly affronted.

"I'm sorry I've hurt your ego, but my sanity is at stake here," I replied, trying to reason with him. "Do something to prove that you are real."

He looked thoughtful for a second, and then his eyes gleamed mischievously, "I see what you are proposing. Would you like to remain here or shall we enter your bed chamber?"

"What?" I croaked. "That's not. That's not even. That's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Pity," he drawled.

I suddenly had a brilliant idea. "Please sit down," I indicated. "I'm going to book an emergency session with Dr. Ruth and take you to see her," I told him, as I grabbed my phone and speed dialled Dr. Ruth.

"_Hello Sarah, what's wrong?"_

Great, she'd started screening my calls. "The Goblin King is in my living room," I blurted, cringing as I awaited her reaction.

"_It seems as if you are having another hallucination Sarah, are you sure you have not taken any hallucinogens? You know, cannabis, certain mushrooms, morning glory, those things." _

Just what was she insinuating here?! Calm down Williams, she's asking you what any rational adult would ask you. "No, Dr. Ruth. I called him--and he, well, showed up."

"_Well, if you've not taken any hallucinogens…"_ she sounded doubtful here, _"perhaps you are having delusions for other reasons. I don't think you should leave your apartment until the delusion stops." _

"But I need you to see that he's real!" I cried. Ok, I'll admit, I sounded a bit juvenile there. "He said he would." I stopped speaking as I realized that my -_oh so lovely-_ figment sat down next to me and rested a leather clad hand on my thigh. Why, oh why did I wear short shorts today?

"When I said sit down, I did not mean so close to me."

"_Excuse me?" _

"I'm sorry; I was talking to someone else."

"I find your attire…interesting," Jareth murmured, his fingers drawing patterns on my thigh.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed, trying desperately to squash a sigh of pleasure from escaping my lips. I grabbed his hand and held it at an arms length.

"_Sarah, who's there with you?" Dr. Ruth asked as she heard a male voice in the background. Dear god, had the girl invited a random stranger into her house, believing he was her 'Goblin King'? As patronizing as Dr. Ruth was, she cared for the wellbeing of her patients. _

"I told you, he's here!" You know, for a therapist, she doesn't have the best listening skills. "So should I-" I felt a low moan emerging in my throat as Jareth's other hand slipped underneath the fabric of my shorts. My eyes widened in mortification as I realized that Dr. Ruth probably heard all this.

"_Sarah, I want you to come meet me immediately." She'd decided she would give that man a piece of her mind! Just who did he think he was to take advantage of the mentally challenged?!_

Finally! If she'd just said yes earlier, we would not have had to go through that embarrassing debacle. "Ok, we'll be there," I said, hanging up and immediately rising up from the sofa, leaving behind a rather disappointed Goblin King.

"Jareth the Goblin King," I generally use people's full names when I'm scolding them, I figured that was his, "never do that again!"

He rolled his eyes heavenward, as if mentally saying a sarcastic 'pshaw.' "You were enjoying yourself."

"I was. You can't. Please don't." An arrogant smirk graced his face as I stuttered about, trying to speak a coherent sentence. "That's beside the point," I said, glaring.

"Just what is this device," he said curiously, as he took my cell phone and examined it. He put it to his ears, trying to emulate what I had done. I sighed, why did he have to look so damn cute?

Make nice with him Williams, you still need him to agree to accompany you to Dr. Ruth's. "Jareth," I started, in the nicest voice I could muster. He looked at me, his eyes suddenly weary. "My doctor said she'd see us both, would you accompany me to her office?"

His royal highness calculated my request for a while before looking at me. I took a sudden step back as he smiled predatorily, his pointy teeth gleaming. Something told me this was _not_ a good idea.

"Offer me something in return," he replied, his voice tinged with desire.

"Couldn't you do this just out of the kindness of your heart?"

"No."

Oh well, it was worth a try. "What do you want then?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

I almost growled with frustration. "It seems to me that we're not communicating properly. I'm willing to give you any physical, nonliving object from my apartment."

He began to argue, but his eyes shifted to my cell phone. "I want you to give me this," he said triumphantly.

I raised my eyebrows, looks like today's my lucky day. "Agreed."

He eyed me suspiciously, as if he'd miscalculated the value of the phone. "What's said is said," I teased, mocking his deep voice. Something dark flashed in his eyes and I realized, a little too late, that throwing his words back at him was not the brightest thing to do.

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

**A Comedy of Fate**

**Synopsis: **Sarah calls the Goblin King and decides to take him to her patronizing therapist, to prove that he's real. Unfortunately, they get stuck in an elevator and a comedy of fate ensues.

**Chapter 2: ****Differences in Fashion Philosophy **

* * *

- 

-

"Would you care to repeat that?" he asked, the expression in his eyes was mild.

_Think, you idiot, think fast! _"I was joking," I replied, laughing nervously. I regained control over my nervousness by chanting the self help mantra (_new age bullshit, my boss called it_) that had been my saviour these past few years.

A darkly gleeful smile slowly formed on his lips. "I'm surprised you remember my words so vividly," he half accused.

I looked at him mutely, trying to imagine the degree of arrogance that would have been in his smile, if he realized that my therapist and I had been dissecting the sexual innuendos of everything he'd said. "We should leave now," I said, quickly changing the subject.

He looked confused for a second, "you shall dress like a harlot in public?"

_Harlot? __Who uses that word 'harlot' these days?_ Well, except Karen (also known as Karen the Puritan). During my senior year in high school, my friends and I had dressed as the Sailor Senshi, and Karen had raved about us looking like harlots. I sighed, "It's thirty-five degrees outside, everybody wears these."

"I would never wear it."

"You're not _meant_ to wear them."

Speaking of clothes, I glanced at what his Highness was wearing. His pants were an improvement: they looked like normal, tailored black pants. His shirt, if you could call it a shirt, was something out of a high budget bondage movie: strips of leather had been perfectly tailored to fit his form, while leaving holes that showed his alabaster flesh. I imagined running my hands over his leather clad flesh…

"Do you like what you see?"

_God, y__es_. "_You_ cannot wear _that_ in public," I told him, ignoring his question. His Highness did think too highly of himself already, I didn't want to feed his ego.

"Silly me, when you invited me for half an hour, I did not care to bring a change of clothing."

"Can't you magically go _snap_ and change your clothes?" I asked.

He looked at me like I'd said something very stupid. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice. You can wear Mark's shirt," I said. My ex-boyfriend had left behind a few useless things. I was going to use the shirt as a bathroom cleaning rag, but I supposed this was more important.

"Your lover?" he asked, his expression suddenly neutral.

I nearly laughed. Lover was too much a glamorous word to describe Mark. "Former…person…that used to live with me," I replied_. Another loser that I purposely chose to sabotage the relationship_, I added to myself.

I walked to the small coat closet in the hallway and pulled out a chequered, flannel shirt. The shirt had once been green and yellow, but now looked like a mixture of various shades of muddy brown. "Here."

"I refuse to even _touch_ that." He looked positively horrified…and adorable. His eyes widened considerably, giving him an innocent look, and his lips were pursed in a pout.

"Jareth, please! You cannot wear what you're wearing right now. This is your only other option."

He threw a look a disgust at Mark's shirt. "Why not?"

_Alright, how do __you attempt explain bondage films to a Goblin King? _You don't.

"Because people will think you're my harlot."

He threw back his head and laughed. _Wonderful, I didn't know I was funny_. "I shall wear it if you insist…"

"Great."

"…but you must tell me about your former lover."

Trust him to ask something completely inappropriate. "He is getting a PhD in neoclassical philosophy and his favourite colour is blue. Are we done? Now please put the shirt on."

He looked at me icily. "No, we are not done. I wish to know how he was as a lover."

_Alright Williams_, I mimicked Coach Andrews'—my high school basketball coach—voice. You _can blush and mumble, giving him exactly what he wants, or you can be bawdy and surprise him a little._ "He was extremely lazy and passive, _and_ expected me to do all the work."

"Work?"

"Foreplay."

"I see" he acknowledged, his voice suddenly deep and his tone suggestive.

My curiosity suddenly sparked. A whole year of being in a droll relationship had left me hungry and Jareth was just the kind of thing to satisfy my hunger. I shook my head, and shooed my thoughts. The conversation had steered in a direction that was most unwise, especially when dealing with Goblin Kings.

"That's what I wanted to know, thank you," he said, taking the shirt from me and putting it on, over his bondage gear.

_What? No innuendos this time?_ Passive aggressive bastard! "Let's go." I grabbed my purse and opened the front door that led to the corridor. If the gods were kind, there would be no neighbours in the corridor.

* * *

- 

-

The gods, as it turned out, were not kind.

My neighbour the accountant, whose hands were full of grocery bags, gawked at Jareth. Jareth meanwhile, smiled coolly at him, flashing just a hint of his pointy teeth. The accountant took a step back.

"Good afternoon Ms. Williams," Mr. Accountant, the thirty-something and balding man, with a head full of hair plugs, greeted me.

"Good afternoon," I replied awkwardly. Three years in this building and I had no idea what his name was. "We're in a big hurry right now, nice meeting you." I quickly turned my back on him and pressed the elevator button.

Once in the elevator, safe from prying eyes, I glared at his Highness. "Don't draw unnecessary attention to yourself."

He smiled at me innocently. "Your undergarment like attire drew more attention."

"What?"

"I felt lust stirring within him when he looked at you."

Lust stirring within Mr. Accountant? _Gross_. "Times have changed Jareth, his lust is his problem. When was the last time you were here anyway?"

"Three hundred and fifty years prior to meeting you."

My brain registered the thought. Times had _defninitely_ changed. "I thought you stole babies more frequently than that." A funny thing happened when I said those words, and I don't mean humorous funny: the elevator stopped descending and the lights suddenly went out.

_Hi, I'm Sarah Williams and I constantly put my foot in my mouth—especially when I'm around moody Goblin Kings._

Jareth's eyes shone sharply, even in the dim emergency light of the elevator. "I'm sorry," I apologized.

He did not speak.

I decided to put more effort into my apology. "I know I offered Toby to you, and that does not qualify as stealing. I made a mistake, I'm sorry."

Yet again, the Goblin King remained silent.

"Please don't be angry with me," my voice pleaded. I felt genuinely sorry that I'd hurt his feelings.

"I'm not angry," he said softly, his head tilted as he calculated the emotion in my voice. "I did not cause this and I cannot undo it."

_Bull shit!_ "Are you kidding me? The second I insult you, the elevator suddenly gets stuck…"

"You did not insult me," he says, laughter prevalent in his voice. "I generally do not take children offered to the goblins."

"Then what do you do?"

"Many things, all of which I'm willing to do with you."

_This wa__s insane_. "But you are _the_ Goblin King."

"I am _your_ Goblin King," he corrected, mischief lighting his dual coloured eyes.

For a split second, my brain froze. Was he admitting that he was my hallucination? That only I could see him? I slid down the mirrored wall, my head resting on my hands. If that was the case, I'd been speaking with someone that did not exist, _someone who admitted he did not exist_, for twenty minutes.

"Oh I assure you, I'm real."

"You're really confusing…_you read my thoughts_?!"

"What does it matter if I do not exist?"

"Hallucination or not, you have no right to read my mind," I retorted angrily.

_"Desk attendant here_, e_levator three, is there a problem?" the emergency intercom blasted. _

"Yes there is a problem, I think we're stuck."

"_We're going to call maintenance. Thank you for being patient." _

_But I'm not patient_, I wanted to yell at the desk attendant, I'm stuck in an elevator with Jareth, the -whatever he is- and I'm afraid I'll jump him the first chance I get.…_Williams you idiot, he can read thoughts!_

I looked at Jareth tentatively and was relieved to find no smugness in his eyes. I suddenly recalled what he had said earlier when I asked him about the last time he'd been here.

'_Three hundred and fifty years prior to meeting you.'_

"Jareth," I started, nudging him with my foot. "If you were here three hundred and fifty years ago-" I paused.

"Yes?" He asked, his voiced laced with curiosity.

"And you haven't been here since, except that one time when I was fifteen-" I paused again, wondering if the consequences were worth the answer.

"Continue." He looked at me intently, giving me his undivided attention. His eyes were wide in anticipation as he leaned closer to me.

_Consequences be damned, curiosity was one of my biggest vices. _"Does that mean you haven't had sex for three hundred and fifty years?"

* * *

- 

-

**Author's Notes**: it's 35 degrees Celsius, obviously.

I realize that Sarah's 25 (and it should be 1994). 1994 was totally uninteresting; the year flannel shirts would actually be fashionable. Therefore, I've upped the year to 2007.

Review if you can, please.


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